


Table Mates | Harry Potter

by WillowRose99



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter x Slytherin reader, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowRose99/pseuds/WillowRose99
Summary: When Snape partners you up with Harry Potter for potions, nothing goes to plan!
Relationships: Harry Potter/Reader, Harry Potter/Slytherin Students, Harry Potter/You
Kudos: 56





	Table Mates | Harry Potter

In all your time of being at Hogwarts, you knew there were somethings you would never come to understand. Like why Snape was such a prick towards every house but his own and continued to make every student’s experience in potions a living hell. Or why hardly anyone understood that Hagrid really was a gentle man even if he surrounded himself with animals that could rip you to shreds in an instant. For some reason magic made sense to you, but people’s prejudices never did.

But here you were, a Slytherin muggle-born, someone who had a blood type that specifically went against the stereotypical Slytherin student. You knew that certain people in your house thought you didn’t have the right to wear the green and silver robes or sleep in the dungeons like the rest of them. Hell, some didn’t think you deserved to exist at all. However, luckily you had some people around who wouldn’t let it pass that you weren’t a rightful Slytherin, like the rest of the students in your house. Except there was one thing that really annoyed you, and that was the idea that the other houses refused to accept that every Slytherin was not the same. And when you thought about this, a particular name came to mind, the name of a boy who had circular glasses and a unique scar pierced into the skin of his forehead. And it didn’t help that maybe, just maybe, you sometimes wondered what he thought of you, let alone if he even knew you, or your hidden fondness towards him that you kept locked away in the safety of your chest.

“I swear to Salazar, if Crabbe makes another mud-blood joke again I’m going to hex him until he can’t walk straight.” You couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend’s threat, shaking your head slightly at him as you poured yourself a glass of pumpkin juice in the Great Hall.

“Monty, face it. He follows Malfoy around, what do you expect him to do?” The boy shrugged beside you, looking back at the food that sat in front of him.

“But still, he shouldn’t be making those jokes. It’s not right.”

“It might not be right, but it’s something I’ve gotten used to it. So, let it go, Mont.” Taking a sip of your drink, you narrowed your eyes at the boy as he went to speak again, before seeing your look.

“Okay, okay. I’ll drop it.” He sent you a hesitant smile, before picking up a piece of toast and then biting a chunk out of it. Silence fell between the two of you then, the only sounds being that of others around you eating and working on homework that was due in for their earlier classes.

Most of the Slytherin table was empty, except for the quidditch team who came down early to eat before practice and the few early risers that never could sleep in past seven. Soon both Martha and Layla were sitting across from you and Monty, sending the both of you tired smiles while trying to wipe the sleep from their eyes.

“Have you heard the news?” Martha asked the question quickly, as if she was about to burst with excitement. You and the two other students looked at her, urging her to speak about whatever piece of information she had heard from the infamous Hogwarts gossip trail. “Snape is assigning us partners in potions today.”

With a sigh Layla looked down at her nearly finished potions essay, and without looking back up at her friend, she spoke back.

“We all know that Martha, Snape told us last lesson. Remember?” You and Monty nodded in agreement, treating the piece of information as worthless.

“You haven’t heard the best part, though. It’s different this time.”

“How is it different? What could possibly be different about it this time then the other fifty something times he’s assigned us partners?” You shot back at the girl, trying to focus on the page of the book you were reading.

“Well first of all, we’re with a different house member. And second of all…” Martha drew out the sentence as if it was a big announcement, something that everyone had to know. “We’re paired up boy to girl, and who ever that person is, they got the same score as you on the last assignment we did.”

You froze then, looking up at the girl with wide eyes, hoping what she said wasn’t true. But Martha kept sitting there, as if what she had said was the best news in the world.

“Tell me your joking, please Martha. Tell me this is some sort of sick joke.” You looked at her hopefully, closing your book quickly and placing it back in your bag as she began to speak.

“Why would this be bad? It’s great, it means we’re working with someone on the same level as us. Which means I’m working with Neville, Monty is with Granger, Layla with Dean Thomas and you’re with-.”

“Potter.” You let the name slip from your mouth like you had tasted something. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the boy, honestly you hardly knew him. But you knew his stance on Slytherins and the fact that he liked to group all of them together as an evil loving bunch of lunatics.

“Well, that should be interesting.” Monty let out a laugh at your face, laughing harder when you smacked him on the back of the head.

“Maybe I can get Snape to change my partner, he might relent?” You knew you had no hope as Layla and Martha shook their heads, all four of you starting to get up from the long table and head towards the dungeons for the first lesson.

“You could try, but we all know you’re the only one who got near the same score as Potter on your assignments. And maybe it might be fun to talk to the Boy Who Lived.” You sent her back a glare as the group of you walked into the potions room.

The dark room was amassed with students from all different houses, circling around and looking for their future partner before the unpleasant potion master started the class. You were looking around hopelessly, trying to spot that mop of unruly black hair that was so famous around the school. But he found you first.

With a quick tug on your sleeve, you were spinning around to face Potter, eyes widening when you noticed how close he was standing to you.

“Tate, are you’re my new partner, right?” You looked back at him as you started to make your way to a free table, pulling out a stool and placing your bag on the bench in front of you.

“I guess I am, Potter.” He sat down next to you, letting out a sigh as he took out his text book and notes for the class.

Neither of you continued to speak, instead you sat in an awkward silence that seemed to span for hours before Snape walked up to the front of the class. He took his time announcing the potion that would be made during this class, and made sure to note that if anyone failed to bring up the potion in perfect form would be instead forced to write a five thousand word essay on the properties of liver worm blood, something that no one fancied writing.

Potter and you worked in silence, effortlessly moving around each other and watching the potion as it continued to bubble. But suddenly, the concentrated silence was broken by the boy opening his mouth.

“Is it just me, or have I got the impression that you don’t like me, Tate?” You snapped your head to the side to look at him, shock covering your features as you tried to think of something in response to his words.

“I don’t know what gave you that impression, but I also don’t know what gave you the impression that every Slytherin is the same.” For a moment a look of surprise came out clear in his eyes, but soon he was looking down at his notes, feigning concentration.

“Who’s to say you’re not all like Malfoy, huh? It seems like it.” You scoffed back at him, glancing towards Snape to see if he was close before leaning closer to the Gryffindor boy.

“I’m to say that we’re not all the same, we’re not all like Malfoy and his blithering bunch of baboons. Not all of us follow the stupid idea that only purebloods should be able to use magic and be in Slytherin. That’s not what we believe.” He rolled his eyes back at you, only angering you further.

“And how do you know that, Tate? You could just be the same.” You leaned in close then, making sure he heard you clearly, not missing the look of bewilderment when you leaned in so close he could feel your warm breath on his skin.

“You think we all believe in the idea of purebloods ruling over everyone else?” Hesitantly, he nods back, daring you to continue. “How do I know we aren’t all like that? Because I’m a muggle-born, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone, from any house, forget.”

You can clearly see the shock that passes over his features then, and the harsh movement of his Adam’s apple moving as he tried to swallow thickly. For once, Harry Potter didn’t know what to say. For once he was rendered speechless, and for a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

You moved back then, focusing all your attention on the potion that sat before you, stirring the mixture gently and watching as it changed to its final colour. You turned off the heat then, and gently spooned some of the potion into the empty vial, writing yours and Harry’s name on the label. Moving to get off your stool, you looked up as a hand took the vial from yours and sent you a weak smile. Harry walked to potion to the front and placed it on Snape’s desk, before walking back to the shared desk and rubbing the back of his neck slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I don’t think I realised that everyone in your house might be different.” He hid his eyes under his mop of black hair, as if he didn’t want you to see the sincere face he held. “I wondered if you wanted to meet up for a butterbeer on the next Hogsmeade trip? Maybe you could tell me more about your house that I don’t understand?”

The boy in front of you was quiet then, and he noticed the confused glance you gave him. But still he waited for you response, not walking away and apologising like you thought he would. And so, of course you were forced to answer, except you never thought you would ever say the words that would spill from your mouth.

“Yeah sure, I’ll meet up with you. How about at two?” He nodded his head eagerly, before his name was called by the youngest Weasley boy. Harry muttered a quick thanks before hurrying off to join his friends as they left the room now that the class was over.

You stood there for a moment, right in the middle of the potions class room, unaware that people were staring and whispering about the latest interaction between you and Potter. And when Monty placed his hand on your shoulder, you nearly jumped slightly, not expecting the touch. He sent you a curious look as you packed your bag and led him out of the classroom, ignoring his questions about Potter.

Suddenly, days were passing and the next Hogsmeade trip was that upon you. And even though all your friends tried to figure out why you were wanting to go, none of them had even come close. Until Monty spoke the next morning, and all you wanted to do was crawl back into your bed.

“You know what I think? I think you’re going to Hogsmeade to see Potter.” Monty spoke teasingly, having no clue that he was so close to the reality of the trip. But his words only had you choking on your pumpkin juice and looking at him widely. He gave you a confused look, patting you on the back gently as you tried to calm your breathing once again, before speaking again. “Okay, maybe that idea was a bit out there, Salazar, Tate, I didn’t mean to choke you.”

You sent him a weak smile, clearing your throat and looking back down at the plate of food in front of you. Playing with a loose string on your sweater, you kept listening to the boy who sat beside you, trying not to focus on the fact that you had to meet with Harry Potter in only a matter of minutes. As Monty ranted on about the latest quidditch game between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, you couldn’t help but glance over to the Gryffindor table, catching a pair of green eyes staring right back at you. Turning away then with a slight blush upon your cheeks, you once again tried to focus on the words of Monty. But then Layla was talking, yanking your wrist gently to make you listen.

“Oh, I can’t believe you, Tate.” You looked at the girl quizzically, wondering what on earth she was talking about. “How could I not see it when it’s been right in front of me this whole entire time?”

“Layla, I’m going to need you to expand on your idea, other wise Monty and I are just going to keep sitting here and stare at you in confusion. C’mon girl, spill.” Martha cut in quickly, taking a sip of her milk and glancing from Layla to you. Layla sighed heavily, rolling her eyes at everyone else’s ignorance to the topic.

“What I’m trying to say, Marth, is that I think our friend here has a crush on The Boy Who Lived.” An audible gasp left both the mouths of Monty and Martha, shock covering their features and eyes widening until it looked like they were about to burst out of their sockets. You shook your head then, trying to push away the accusation but no words would come out. So, instead you stood up, and walked away like coward you were.

He found you then, catching your gaze as he leaned up against the wall near the main doors out of the castle. Sending you a small smile, he started to casually walk towards you, hands shoved in his pockets and glasses perched haphazardly on the crook of his nose. And for a moment, you couldn’t believe how much you wanted to move closer and adjust the spectacles back into their proper place. But you stopped yourself, instead forcing yourself to send a smile back his way.

“Should we get going?” You asked, hoping he would agree so you the two of you could get away from the following eyes that burned into the back of your skull. He nodded, grinning widely, before following you out the door and towards the carriages that would you take you to the small village.

When you got to Hogsmeade, it was as it had always been, busy, cheerful and teeming with conversations that the two of you caught small snippets of before heading into the Three Broomsticks. Waiting at a table as Harry strode away to get two butterbeers, you couldn’t help but fiddle with your wand slightly, turning it over again and again in your hands.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you here.” Potter placed the drinks in front of the two of you, waiting for you to take a sip and let out a sigh. You looked around the pub, again noticing the watching gazes, people wondering why the famous boy was sitting so closely to a Slytherin when all he could do was talk so vehemently against them.

“Well, when you asked me here, you said it was to talk about how Slytherins aren’t all the same.” You looked back at him, watching as he scratched the back of his neck in what might have been embarrassment.

“I kinda lied about that, I didn’t think that you would come here if I told you what I really wanted to meet up about.” Waiting for him to continue, you took another sip of your drink, tapping your fingers on the table top in an irregular beat. “Look, I know we hardly know each other, and honestly I probably annoy every being in your body, but I have to be honest here. I like you, and I have since the third year. And you can probably guess the moment I started liking you.”

If you died at exactly this moment, your corpse would hold a look of shock, confusion and clear alarm on its face. That was exactly how you looked as you sat across from Harry. No sound left your mouth, instead it opened and kept hanging open as if it couldn’t close itself. Your whole body had frozen up, thoughts coming to an abrupt stop as you just kept staring at the Gryffindor boy. But then he was speaking again, trying to take back his confession, shaking his head urgently and quickly making a move to stand up.

Your lips were on his then, hand cupping his cheek and body moving closer to the boy, a boy who was in the same position you were in only moments ago, frozen in place.

And then he started moving against you, kissing you back and wrapping his arms around your waist, not wanting to ever let you go. You pulled away then, the both of you trying to catch your lost breath, sneaking small smiles and soft gazes as the two of you sat in silence, the whole world suddenly forgotten.

“I know when that moment was.” Breaking the silence, you moved so that you sat right next to him, sides pressing together. Harry looked at you, urging you to speak. “It was the moment I slapped Malfoy for calling Granger a mud-blood, wasn’t it?”

He let out a loud laugh then, something that filled your insides with warmth and sounded so happy that you couldn’t help but cherish that moment.

“Yeah, that’s when I realised I loved you.” He moved to kiss you again, planting his lips against yours and earning himself a smile as you pushed some of his hair away from his bright green eyes.

“Well then, how am I not surprised.” You leaned into him then, letting out a peaceful breath and watched how the people in the tavern moved around the room, so oblivious to two teenagers so suddenly in love.

_________

It was years later when Harry collapsed onto the couch next to you in your shared apartment, letting out a heavy sigh as he returned from work.

“Not a good day?” You moved to get up and make him a cup of tea, but instead, he was pulling you back down and resting his head on your chest, letting out a grunt in agreement.

Laughing gently, you moved your fingers through his dark hair, calming the man down until he was lying peacefully on the couch, breathing evenly. You would have thought your fiancée was asleep, but then he started speaking, quiet words that you nearly didn’t catch.

“Malfoy was being a prick today.” He let out a yawn as he spoke, turning slightly so he could see your face, moving a hand up to push some of your hair behind your ear.

“Oh yeah? What about?” You had a small smile on your face, something that only widened as Harry spoke.

“About how it’s so unfair that Luna can beat him in a physical fight, and if he was ready, he would have won.” Shaking your head in amusement, you caught the growing grin on the man’s face.

“And what did you say back?” He grinned widely at your question, clearly enjoying the conversation.

“I reminded him that he was still beaten in a fight by my fiancée in year three, and he’s never going to live that down.” Before you could weakly scold the man for bringing that moment up again, he was kissing you gently, quieting you. Pulling away, you shook your head at Harry, trying to hide your ever-growing smile.

“You’re never going to let him forget that are you, Harry?”

“Not a chance, love. Not a chance.”


End file.
